


How to Be a Soul-Giver

by aliencupcake



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Humor, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, Rituals, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5019172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliencupcake/pseuds/aliencupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justine was surprised to be chosen as a soul-giver, but she was happy to accept. Goddesses worked in mysterious ways, so if one of them wanted part of Justine's soul, she had no desire to refuse. It helped that Justine got to decide her own outfit for the ritual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Be a Soul-Giver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My_Desperate_Romance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Desperate_Romance/gifts).



Most of the time, Justine ignored the gods and goddesses, and they ignored her. They existed, but a lot of things existed without the need to pay close attention to them, like Rochelle’s insistence that Justine needed to get laid. Just like Justine kept the knowledge that the soul-givers would be revealed soon in the periphery of her mind, she tuned out the majority of Rochelle’s chatter about her deficient sex life. Rochelle may have been Justine’s housemate, but that didn’t make her a qualified advice columnist, or a qualified anything else.

“Why do you want to buy that bra and matching underwear if you don’t want anyone to see them?” Rochelle stood next to Justine in the lingerie store, squinting at the bra in Justine’s hands as if it offended her.

“Because they’re cute?” Justine said. The set was bubblegum pink with white polka dots and white lace trim. There was nothing Rochelle should have found lacking.

“Nobody’s going to _see_ that cuteness.”

“I don’t care. I like the polka dots.”

“Those polka dots say, ‘I’m adorable. Now fuck me, and I’ll make you cookies after.’ How is anybody going to get the message if you don’t show them off?”

“I’ll just skip straight to the cookies, no need to use my lingerie as some kind of secret code. You’re aware that women don’t _actually_ speak in secret code, right, since you are one?” Justine turned away from Rochelle, focusing instead on the lipsticks and perfumes by the cashier.

“You’re just bitter you didn’t get the Secret Girl Code Memo. I know we don’t speak in code, but who buys an adorable lingerie set they don’t want anyone to see?” Rochelle spritzed a trial perfume onto her wrist.

Justine wrinkled her nose. The perfume smelled like burned cookies. “Someone who likes feeling cute,” she said.

Frowning, Rochelle examined the pink perfume bottle before sticking it back on the display. “You buy a cute shirt to feel cute. You get that new chin-length bob with the bangs and the choppy layers to feel cute. You buy lingerie so other people can see you feeling cute.” Her long strawberry blonde waves bounced in time with her misguided and incoherent argument.

“That’s stupid. I know my lingerie is cute. That’s enough. It’s invisible confidence. The polka dots will give me strength.” Justine straightened her posture.

“Invisible strength dots. Okay.”

“Yes. You don’t need to roll your eyes like that.”

“It’s ocular exercise.”

Justine answered that by buying the lingerie set and saying nothing else to Rochelle, who wouldn’t have listened anyway.

***

Two weeks after her shopping trip, Justine thought there was no good reason to feel twitchy when she woke up in the morning. She didn’t even have class, and a day off should have made her feel _less_ agitated, if anything.

“I hate mornings,” Justine grumbled to herself. She checked her clock; it was shaped like a cat and had been a gift from Rochelle. Justine saw it was already 2:00PM, which was technically the afternoon. She glared at the cat clock. “Fine, I hate _afternoons_.”

The clock, much like an actual cat, just looked back at her smugly.

“Oh shut up,” Justine muttered. “Talking to yourself isn’t even weird.”

What was weird was the feeling that someone was watching her. Justine couldn’t shake it. She even tried literally shaking it off. Wiggling her body and jumping around like an incompetent dancer who’d been stung by a bee didn’t help anything. Coraline ran her hands through her hair, probably making her bedhead worse.

She wondered if she’d eaten something odd last night, but the only thing she’d had to eat was half the batter from the vegan chocolate chip cookies she’d made. Vegan baking was the best because you could eat all the batter you wanted without worrying about bacteria hiding out in uncooked eggs. The overconsumption of cookie batter shouldn’t have caused Justine’s twitchiness, either, because she’d made that exact recipe before, eaten as much batter, and felt fine afterward.

“Do you have any idea what’s wrong with me?” Justine asked the cat clock.

It, of course, said nothing and just ticked with more smugness than a clock should have been capable of.

“Fine, I’ll just blame you,” she said.

Somehow, though, Justine didn’t think the cat clock was to blame, no matter how smugly it ticked. After she brushed her teeth and attempted to tame her hair while half-asleep, Justine grumbled to herself because acting crabby was better than feeling weird. She walked into the kitchen to get one of yesterday’s cookies. There were surprisingly few left, because she’d eaten half the batter in making them.

Fewer than expected cookies didn’t mean zero cookies, so Justine grabbed one; it still managed to taste like a cookie on the second day. With how off she was feeling, Justine had almost worried the cookie would take on some new and ominous non-cookie flavor. Cookies that tasted wrong would definitely be a sign of the apocalypse.

Even though Justine’s cookie tasted right, it didn’t do anything to erase the persistent sense of weirdness. While her cookie told her it wasn’t the apocalypse, it didn’t tell her what _was_ going on. A huge range of possibilities between “the world as you know it is going to end” and “nothing’s wrong, just relax.”

Relaxing wasn’t even close to being an option; Justine’s skin crawled like she’d made a wrong turn and ended up at a centipede convention. She paced around the kitchen, feeling more and more like there actually _were_ insects where there shouldn’t have been any.

“Centipedes don’t have conventions,” she muttered to herself. The sensible reminder failing, Justine slapped the inside of her left wrist to kill some of the imaginary bugs.

It hurt far more than it should have, a strange shock running up Justine’s arm. When she recovered enough to look down at her wrist, she got an even bigger shock.

There was a mark on her wrist in the shape of a butterfly, when there had been nothing before. It looked almost like a tattoo, with the image outlined in black and filled in like a watercolor painting. The wings contained the hues of the rainbow.

Justine had never gotten a tattoo, and, if she had, it wouldn’t have been like the one on her wrist. It glowed, and the colors shifted when she wasn’t looking straight at them. Nobody ordinary got a mark like that; it didn’t happen.

Only those chosen to be soul-givers got marks like that.

The rainbow butterfly was the symbol of Topaz, also known as the Goddess of Light and Color.

“Impossible,” she said, as if she could challenge reality. “You _are_ aware I’m about as devout as a stale scone, right?”

The butterfly tattoo glowed brighter for a moment.

“So, is this like a one-way walkie-talkie? Do people even use walkie-talkies anymore?”

Justine’s tattoo glowed again. It could definitely hear her, and it was almost as smug as her cat clock.

Getting the mark surprised Justine, though she supposed it was an example of how deities worked in mysterious ways. Justine was happy to accept the summons despite being as devout as a stale baked good, but it still confused her. She didn’t understand why she’d been chosen. Justine would have reacted with more emotion, except shock seized her system.

When this fully sank in, then she would freak out.

***

According to the official regulations from the Temples for Divine Reality, a name that Justine didn’t find creepy or overdramatic _at all_ , soul-givers could wear what they liked when called by any of the deities. Official regulations had nothing on the unofficial rules, and Justine knew that, for example, that anyone giving a part of their soul to the God of Truth had to wear white or pale gray because actual colors obscured the truth or something.

Justine was glad the deity who’d chosen her had an actual sense of style. She had a feeling that some of the gods and goddesses wouldn’t have approved of her choice of outfit, and she needed a cute outfit in order not to lose her mind.

Bright purple sequins were _perfectly_ reverent.

Besides, in addition to the purple sequined skater dress with matching purple waist ribbon, Justine had worn black heels. Nobody could say black was an excessively bright color, unless they were some kind of supernatural creature who saw shades invisible to the human eye. Maybe her shoes were too strappy for looking like a proper subject, but Justine didn’t care. She had almost worn purple contacts, before deciding her brown eyes were more than adequate.

Maybe she should have worn heels with a greater surface area that actually touched the ground. She tottered on her current pair, though perhaps that was because the two priestesses at the door to the temple stared at her with impassive eyes. They each wore long rainbow robes, so they could not possibly think she was overdressed. The sequins might have been a problem, but Justine had checked that her earrings - black butterflies - were allowed. They were tasteful pandering.

She decided that priestesses would be scary no matter what you were wearing. Justine nodded at the pair, who nodded back, still too impassive for her comfort. She smiled at them, hoping it was more “harmless yet sufficiently reverent” and less “unstable and five seconds from doubling over in evil laughter.”

The priestesses said nothing, merely turning their eyes to the doors, which were made of iridescent seafoam green stone, each inlaid with an image of a butterfly. By some invisible force, the doors opened inward, revealing a strangely dark space beyond them. Justine shivered for a moment, but a sweater would have ruined the look of her dress. She would put up with the cold air, even if it looked like she was going to walk into a black hole.

Luckily, protocol forbade Justine from speaking to the priestesses. She didn’t think she could have said anything coherent to the priestesses as she walked through the door, her heels clicking on the stone floor of the temple. Justine didn’t go far before the door shut behind her, oddly silent for their size. Shouldn’t they have at least creaked?

Once the doors shut, the inside of the chamber surrounded Justine with total darkness. It clung to her, immobilizing her so she didn’t trip over something and break her nose. She was willing to give Topaz part of her soul, but her nose was off-limits.

The darkness continued to surround Justine, who started to wonder if she’d been stood up like this was some bad blind date. She had even dressed up in something that would have been suitable for a date. Justine squinted at the butterfly tattoo, which started glowing, providing the only light in the bizarrely dark temple.

A goddess in charge of color should have had a more cheerful decorating scheme, though Justine managed to keep her thoughts to herself. Even if Topaz was being slightly rude by possibly standing her up, Justine would represent mortal humans with flawless manners. She knew she was supposed to kneel only _after_ Topaz showed up. Kneeling in darkness wasn’t required, which was good because Justine might have broken an ankle trying it.

It occurred to Justine that time itself could have easily twisted itself into an inedible pretzel while she was waiting for something to happen. Her stomach rumble, making her realize thinking about pretzels at that moment made no sense whatsoever. It wasn’t like she’d even had to fast, though Justine couldn’t remember when she had last eaten. She hadn’t had much of an appetite that morning, despite making cookies that should have been delicious.

Out of nowhere, the room exploded with color, enough that Justine knew she was losing her grip on reality. Swirling rainbow rainbow surrounding her, swallow Justine in a dizzying whirlwind. Somehow, she didn’t fall, as if the rainbow light were solid, alive and aware of her. Living rainbow light made as much sense as anything else, even when that rainbow light started to sparkle. Justine hadn’t dressed for a glitter hurricane.

For self-preservation as much as anything else, Justine knelt. It was safer, even if Topaz hadn’t shown up yet.

“It’s important to make an entrance, don’t you agree? I hope you like glitter.”

Justine couldn’t see anything kneeling amidst the glitter hurricane, but she heard that voice despite the swirling, brightly-colored winds. She couldn’t pinpoint it; the voice came from everywhere at once, though it wasn’t all that loud. It was just _there_.

With no signal to look up, Justine continued kneeling. She tried to remember if she were supposed to count the seconds, but the glittery winds interfered with her memory.

“My priestesses don’t much like it, but they’re just bitter at having to do the cleanup. It builds character. You can get up if you like, though I’d watch your step. There’s glitter everywhere.”

After the voice spoke again, the winds stopped. Justine didn’t move, even if she could have. She was too startled, having realized just who was speaking: Topaz, the goddess to whom Justine was supposed to give part of her soul. She had known that before, of course, yet there was a difference between knowing something intellectually and feeling it in every inch of your being. Justine felt the realization; the temple had gotten hotter, though not to the point of physical discomfort. It was closer to that feeling Justine sometimes had when she stood too close to someone she had a crush on.

That was the closest comparison Justine had, anyway.

The air grew too still, convince Justine to stand up despite her nerves. She managed not to fall on her face, counting that as a spectacular victory. Seeing the glitter covering every surface of the room further convinced her that standing up was a victory because that many multicolored pinpoints of light could have knocked anyone over. The room didn’t look like anything earthly, seeming to be its own dimension where the rules of sensible coloring didn’t apply.

Justine avoided looking at the person standing among the glitter, still not ready for that. She sensed, though, that she couldn’t wait too long. Avoiding eye contact was often considered rude, though didn’t some cultures consider that deferential? She certainly wanted to show proper respect, which had probably already been covered by all the kneeling.

Finally daring to look up, Justine saw Topaz for the first time. She sparkled as much as anything else in the room, making Justine feel almost underdressed in her sequined outfit. Then again, Justine _was_ covered in rainbow glitter. Topaz didn’t need glitter to sparkle, emitting light just by standing there, her long yellow-gold hair matching her namesake jewel. Her robe resembled those the priestesses wore, though it also shifted color depending on the angle Justine viewed it. She had never seen rainbows be so elegant.

Topaz had smooth dark brown skin and eyes that matched the color of her hair, as shining as the rest of her, but the thing that most captured Justine’s attention was the butterfly wings. Topaz had wings just like those of Justine’s butterfly tattoo, only much larger and in three dimensions. Justine had known, in theory, that Topaz often appeared with person-sized wings, but that hadn’t prepared Justine for seeing the wings right in front of her. Topaz being taller, even with heels, didn’t make her appearance any less dazzling or intimidating, either.

"I should have worn higher heels.” Justine frowned. “Though I would have almost certainly killed myself if I had tried that.”

“I wouldn’t have let you die. I’m more powerful than mere six-inch heels, but I agree it's best you didn't put yourself in any unnecessary danger. That kills the mood, don't you think?"

"I guess. But don't some people enjoy saving lives?"

"Not when you're the one putting them in danger in the first place, unless you're some kind of sociopath. My people can be emotionally distant, but I _do_ have more empathy than a turnip."

Justine cringed. She had used that _exact_ phrasing when ranting about the gods, because she'd forgotten her umbrella during a thunderstorm. "I almost drowned in that rainstorm," she huffed, though she knew that was a silly excuse. "It's perfectly normal and healthy for us mortals to complain about you." She seemed incapable of showing respect, which made her want to hide. The abundance of rainbow glitter might provide camouflage if she covered herself with it; Justine seemed to be half-covered in glitter already.

Topaz laughed, and it sounded as glittery as the room itself. Her wings fluttered in time with laughter. "Of course it is. Perfect obedience isn't useful or expected, though sometimes it _is_ fun."

"Okay, but I'll try not to call you a turnip again." Justine relaxed slightly, though she still worried about offending Topaz. She was also confused about Topaz's last statement, but she didn't ask if it had any secret meaning. Goddesses were bound to be confusing to mortals. 

"Even if you're not likely to kill yourself in those heels, we ought to sit down."

"Sitting on the altar would make me feel like a human sacrifice," Justine said. 

The stone altar was made of the same iridescent seafoam green material as the doors, contrasting with the gray of the temple room's walls, though those walls were inlaid with various colorful images, many of which were butterflies. Even without the glitter, the space wasn't exactly monochrome. The back of the altar was shaped like a butterfly, with a cluster of smaller butterflies appearing to flutter around it. It was impressive construction to look so delicate. The table in front of the butterfly cluster had spaces for candles, as well as looking like the sort of place you'd place your would-be human sacrifice. Justine assumed that glitter would prevent at any attempts at sacrificing her life. She also wondered if she should have knelt closer to the altar, but there had been a glitter hurricane.

"I wasn't going to make you sit on the altar. That's hardly comfortable," Topaz said, waving a hand to dismiss the idea.

“The floor? But I’d get glitter on my ass.”

“You have glitter on every part of you already.”

“Are we going to sit on the kneeling cushions, then? That feels weirdly sacrilegious and still close enough to the altar to make me feel like a sacrifice.”

“I’m a goddess. If I say to do something, it’s automatically not sacrilegious. And, no, we won’t be sitting there. Those cushions are good for kneeling, but _I_ don’t kneel. Can you imagine me kneeling at an altar to myself?”

Justine snorted. “I think that might give reality a headache.”

“That would only be fair. Reality gives _me_ a headache sometimes. Metaphorically speaking.”

“Aren’t you in charge of it? You know, parts, anyway?”

“That’s why it gives me a headache. It’s dreadfully difficult to work with. I may be divine, but reality is remarkably stubborn. Think of it like one of those printers in your world. How often do they print what you ask without you having to curse them into submission?”

“You know what a printer is?”

“Not everyone older than you is clueless about technology. Printers are simple.”

“So where are we going to sit?” Justine didn’t see anywhere else they could sit.

“Give me a moment. I’m thinking.”

Justine had no choice but to wait, and she didn’t even know what she was waiting for. Goddesses truly were baffling.

Topaz didn’t say anything to Justine before she waved her hand and sent another spray of rainbow glitter into the air.

“We’re going to sit on glitter?” Justine remained as confused as ever. Topaz didn’t seem to hear her question, either.

That glitter jet coalesced into a large cloud hovering a foot or so off the ground. It didn’t look like an especially solid place to sit. As a mortal made of solid matter, Justine had no ability to hover, and she’d fall right through that glitter if she tried to use it as a seat. Surely, Topaz had something planned besides more brightly colored special effects.

She did. The glitter cloud stopped hovering and sparkling, solidifying and becoming not quite as reflective. Slowly, it took on a more defined shape, appearing to be made out of something other than multiple tiny fragments of glitter. The cloud became what Justine could describe only as a backless sofa, in the middle of a temple.

“Is that real?” Justine said.

While it looked solid enough, Justine wanted to be sure. She needed the confirmation. The sofa was covered in something velvety, invitingly soft even from a distance. The frame was the same iridescent seafoam green as the doors of the room, but the fabric itself formed an expanse of subtly shifting rainbow hues that weren’t as bright as the glitter covering everything else in the room. There were two cylindrical pillows on either end. Every part of the sofa contained gentle curves, though it was more than flat enough to sit on; it just had fluffy cushions, which every decent sofa needed.

“I don’t make knockoffs or fakes,” Topaz said with pride in her voice. “It would be terrible for my reputation if the things I created broke or vanished when you touched them.”

“I’m glad your concerns for your reputation mean I won’t get glitter all over my ass.”

“Your ass is too covered for you to get anything on it, if you want to be technical.”

Justine thought her face was going to burn off. Maybe Topaz could make her a new one; she owed her for saying _that_

“Is that a problem? I’m pretty sure they don’t allow assless pants in here, and, even if they did, I wouldn’t wear something so tacky, even for you,” Justine said.

“I would hope you wouldn’t find assless pants to be appropriately respectful. There are better ways of seeing asses. Now, let’s have a seat, shall we?”

“Yeah, okay.” Justine baby-stepped over to the sofa, not trusting her shoes in the mess of glitter. She sat down, grateful for a reason not to think about her ass.

Topaz glided over to the sofa, kicking up a cloud of glitter in her wake. Justine thought she had to be doing that on purpose. The glitter twinkled in the air, some of it settling on the sofa and eliminating what felt like the last glitter-free surface in the room.

Even Topaz had gotten glitter on herself. The particular angle Topaz chose made it hard for Justine to avoid looking at her chest. Staring at someone’s breasts was rude normally, never mind this situation, even if the breasts in questioned glittered. Being in a temple required more propriety and less blushing because of supernaturally well-formed breasts. Glitter wasn't an excuse.

"So how does this work, anyway?" Justine said. "How am I supposed to give you part of my soul? Do I need a spiritual crowbar to pry it open? Or is it like the projector in my middle school that wouldn’t work unless the teacher cursed at it in a dead language?" That was as plausible as any other idea she had. Her research said that it varied from deity to deity and from soul-giver to soul-giver.

"It depends."

For the thousandth time, Justine wondered why she, specifically, had been chosen. "Depends on what? The phases of the moon?”

“I’m not the moon goddess.”

“I was just guessing because it’s not like I’m the most religious person in the universe,” Justine said. A truly religious person wouldn’t have to concentrate not to stare at a goddess’ breasts.

Topaz snorted. “I already said perfect obedience isn’t always useful. Mindless souls taste like stale granola bars.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Why did you want me?”

“I’m inscrutable and mysterious.”

“So you’re not going to tell me why?”

“I needed part of a soul to maintain stability of my powers, but you already knew that much. None of the more typical types had anything of interest when I looked, so I broadened my horizons. Still nothing. Until you compared my people to turnips. I didn’t appreciate the comparison, but your soul was pretty.” Topaz’s wings fluttered, and Justine found her eyes drawn to them. It was less awkward than staring at her breasts, if nothing else.

That sounded odd to Justine, who thought of souls as glowing blobs when she thought about them at all. “Pretty? My soul isn’t just another blob?”

“It’s an especially pretty blob.”

“...thanks?”

“Your soul doesn’t really resemble a blob, but getting into the metaphysics of soul construction might take too much time. Just trust me that yours is pretty. Surely the word of a divine being carries some weight.”

Divine interference had to have been the only thing keeping Justine from spontaneously combusting and rudely making a mess in the temple. She coughed, trying to restore some sense to her brain. Spontaneous combustion was just not sexy, unless you had an _extremely_ specific fetish.

“So, what now?” Justine didn’t know how soul-blob transference worked, and Topaz wasn’t helping.

The air itself seemed to sparkle; Justine wondered if the glitter on the floor were partly sentient and possibly mobile.

“I have an idea.”

Everything sparkled, including Justine’s neurons because that was the only way she could explain what was happening: sparkling neuron disease. She had to be imagining Topaz leaning forward and kissing her. On the lips, like she thought more than Justine’s _soul_ was hot. Justine had to be imagining the way Topaz smelled like fresh rain and tasted just a little bit sweet, like someone had dusted the rain with sugar.

In that moment, Justine’s _everything_ was hot, and shining. Warmth overtook her, and she pressed herself into the kiss, heedless of any rules that said you didn’t try to get more from a goddess even if she’d kissed you first. Topaz didn’t seem to mind, continuing the kiss and allowing Justine to deepen it.

Though Justine wanted even more, she restrained herself, letting her lips play against Topaz’s own without trying to use her tongue or anything else like that. She even hesitated to use her arms, partly from not know how to handle Topaz’s wings. Before Justine could figure out what to do with her arms, Topaz pulled away.

The sudden lack of contact required Justine to suppress a whine. She managed that, but she did not manage to keep her mouth from hanging open in surprise. That kiss hadn’t happened, not in anything approaching the normal world. Justine did realize that the world was not currently being normal. She still couldn’t believe it.

“Did you really just kiss me?”

“I don’t know.”

“So I could be imagining this?”

“It’s entirely possible. If you like denying facts.”

“So I’m not making this up?”

“Of course you aren’t. Do I have to pinch you to assure you you’re not dreaming?”

“You can pinch me if you want.” Justine winced; that sounded far more suggestive than she’d meant it to sound, yet she didn’t exactly regret saying it.

Topaz laughed, and it was, yet again, a glittery sound. “Now that we’ve established you’re not dreaming, I suppose I ought to explain myself a bit more. I thought one way to do the soul transfer would be to make it more physically _interesting_ than just using fancy hand gestures, chanting, and acting like such a dull divine stereotype. Normally, I don’t arouse the souls out of people, but I’d do it with you, if you liked.”

“I don’t think you could be dull if you tried. Not with so much glitter all over the floor,” Justine said, for a moment ignoring the rest of what Topaz had told her. Justine’s whole body flushed; physically, at least, she liked Topaz’s idea, though the idea of being at all intimate with a goddess intimidated her.

“So that means it’s okay if I can’t help staring at your breasts?” Justine added, flushing even hotter and wondering just how red her face was. Her flirting wasn’t usually _this_ awkward. Maybe Rochelle was right and she was way too out of practice. She would never admit that to Rochelle, though, because she’d never hear the end of it.

Without Justine having time to so much as blink, Topaz suddenly decreased the already-tiny amount of space between them to not even a half-inch. “Will you accept this offer? I’ll confess I want to do things with you, if you’re good and you want them.”

Of all possible actions, Justine glanced at the glitter covering both the room and her own body. She had a reason for that besides her nerves, too. “Can you promise I won’t get glitter anywhere it, uh, shouldn’t go?” While she wanted this despite being intimidated, glitter didn’t belong _there_.

Topaz made a face and then waved a hand in the air. “I’m a goddess. Of course I can do that much. Pain can be fun, but rogue glitter would just be annoying. Now why don’t you kiss me?” Topaz phrased it as a question, but it sounded more like an order, one Justine happily obeyed.

Keeping her hands at her sides, Justine closed her eyes and brought her lips to Topaz’s own, beginning a gentle kiss. Well, Justine had intended for it to be gentle this time, not wanting to act as the aggressor or be too needy. Topaz had other ideas about how gentle the kiss should be; she moved her lips with more force, pushing at Justine’s mouth until Justine parted her own lips and allowed Topaz’s tongue inside.

Justine savored the sweetness of that kiss, moving her lips slowly. She found enough of a rhythm that she allowed herself to embrace Topaz as they kissed, then feeling the fluttering of those brilliant rainbow wings. Topaz returned the embrace, one arm around her waist and one that found its way Justine’s hair, making Justine shiver at the contact.

As they kissed, Justine filled with more heat than her body could hold. It had to go somewhere, though there was nowhere for it to go just yet. Even though her eyes were closed, everything still sparkled, bright enough to swallow her whole. Justine swore her soul itself fluttered, wanting to fly right up on into the sky.

When Topaz glided her hand up Justine’s back, it made her tremble. To steady herself, Justine pushed her body closer though there was no empty space left to cross. She tightened her grip not to float away. Kissing wouldn’t ordinarily give you levitation powers, but Topaz was a goddess and Justine wanted to be safe.

Safety wasn’t Justine’s only concern, though. She also simply wanted more of the sensation of Topaz pressed against her. It might have left Justine feeling ready to burst, but it wasn’t enough. Her soul fluttered, still trying to fly. It couldn’t fly if all Justine did was kiss; kissing brought heat yet left Justine far too desperate. She wondered if she should make her desperation known or if that would ruin everything.

Wanting and waiting might ruin her and shatter her into more fragments than there were pieces of glitter on the floor.

Somehow, Topaz sensed the exact moment when Justine was _right_ about to break, though her actions may or may not have helped keep Justine together. Topaz lifted her hand from Justine’s back to the zipper on her dress, tugging on it with an almost imperceptible motion. Everything she did was graceful to the point of not being human. Justine might have felt clumsy in comparison if she’d had space in her mind for that.

The heat crowded almost everything else out, growing only hotter as Topaz pulled the zipper down to where the ribbon encircled Justine’s waist. Justine dared to let go of Topaz, reach down and untie the ribbon. She lacked the patience not to do so. Topaz clucked like she disapproved, sending Justine’s stomach swooping.

“Forward, aren’t we?” Topaz’s voice was chiding but not angry, with an undercurrent of amusement. “Do I need to tie your hands with this?”

“Would it work for that?”

“It should do alright.” Topaz pulled the ribbon from the belt loops.

Justine’s dress fell off her left shoulder, revealing part of her bra, which was the pink one with white polka dots that she’d recently purchased. She appreciated the confidence from knowing she’d chosen a cute bra because it would have been tragic to have sex with a goddess wearing a deflated beige breast-container. Justine didn’t bother covering herself, deciding it was counterproductive.

Topaz flicked her wrist, making the ribbon in her hand undulate and sparkle with probably-unnatural motion. There hadn’t been _that_ much glitter on it, either, yet it gave off far more light than a ribbon had any business projecting. When the ribbon settled back down, it looked like it had before. Justine squinted at it anyway.

“What did you do to my ribbon?”

“I made sure it would be a comfortable and usable tie, plus you know how much I like making things sparkle. Now, why don’t you take off that dress the rest of the way? And those heels, too.”

Justine complied, going for the shoes first. Dropping them to the ground sent up a small cloud of glitter because almost everything was glitter. As she removed the shoes, her dress fell off her other shoulder, sliding down her arms and providing no cover up top. Justine pushed it all of the way off; it, too, sent up a cloud of glitter when it hit the floor.

"Pretty," Topaz said, though she then frowned. "Something is missing." 

"My lingerie?" Justine was still wearing it.

"You can keep all that on." Topaz scanned the room. Eventually, she nodded to herself and, with another flick of her wrist, made a new kneeling cushion materialize in a cloud of glitter on the floor by her feet. It was the same pink as Justine's bra and underwear, with white trimming. There were even polka dots. "Color coordination is important," Topaz added.

Watching all that, Justine shivered with something entirely unlike cold. She could feel herself _responding_ , getting hot and wet between her legs at the sight of a mere cushion. Well, it was a kneeling cushion custom-made by a goddess. Justine almost rose up to go kneel on it, but Topaz shook her head. 

"I'm not wasting the ribbon." With her magic, Topaz directed the ribbon to fly up and bind Justine's wrists in front of her.

It threw Justine off balance, while doing less than nothing to calm her down. 

"Now kneel, facing me." Topaz, sounding more commanding than ever, did not move to disrobe or anything else. "I hope you have sufficient coordination to get under there without full use of your hands. I don't want your _hands_."

Her voice was a rainstorm, the kind that left new flowers in its wake. Justine nodded, hesitating simply because she did not want to fall. Clumsy worship like that would just be embarrassing. With careful movements, Justine got herself to the cushion. Kneeling without faceplanting took a million years, give or take.

After those million years were over, Justine used her bound hands to lift Topaz’s robe and shuffle underneath it. She managed this, somehow, without falling off the kneeling cushion. It helped that Topaz cooperated and spread her legs, though it would have made no sense not to cooperate on an order she had given herself.

Being inside Topaz’s robes reminded Justine of a calmer version of the earlier glitter hurricane. The inside surprised her with its brightness, though Justine had more important things to concentrate on than the current lighting scheme. This was by far the most interesting “prayer” she had ever done and far sexier than indirectly calling Topaz a turnip.

Justine couldn’t help giggling. To stop herself, she gave her mouth something else to do, putting her face right between Topaz’s legs. This didn’t actually stop Justine from giggling because even tonguing the clit of a goddess wasn’t enough to stop inappropriate nervous giggles. Justine was glad it wasn’t some fancy dinner with stuffy politicians, and that made her giggle harder against Topaz’s inner lips.

She hoped Topaz couldn’t hear her downright silly behavior, though Justine guessed she was doing alright because Topaz was wet and smelled of heady arousal. Maybe Justine’s giggles provided pleasing vibrations as she explored with her tongue and tried to taste as much as she could while laughing. If Topaz had asked, Justine might have said she giggled on purpose except for how she still would have refused to lie to a goddess.

Concentrating so much on trying to get Topaz off made arousal pool in Justine’s stomach and between her legs, making her as wet as Topaz was. Justine’s whole body wound tighter and tighter, and her soul fluttered like it might truly break free this time. She didn’t do anything to herself, but something pushed her desire to greater and greater heights as if some kind of magic power were deliberately arousing her. It was almost a physical thing

As Justine used her tongue and tasted as much of Topaz as she could, she felt more and more like the magic in the room were a tangible thing. It reached into her fluttering soul, delicate but intense enough to make Justine gasp. She wasn’t the only one unable to remain silent, either; Topaz moaned softly, and Justine heard it through the robes surrounding her.

That strangely sold magic reached further into Justine’s soul. She trembled, the intensity and power almost too much to bear, though she kept moving her tongue in her attempt to bring Topaz to climax. Even soul-piercing magic wouldn’t stop her from achieving her goal, especially as Topaz let free more lustful moans. Justine had to be doing something right. She guessed it wouldn’t be much longer before Topaz came, though Justine’s sense of time distorted as that magic grabbed a part of her soul. Predicting anything with certainty would have been impossible, but Justine _could_ tell for a fact that the magic was preparing to take a specific piece of her soul.

Having a piece of her soul singled out pushed Justine’s desire yet higher, sending her to the edge of what she could take. Just as Justine hit the edge, Topaz came with a cry, her climax causing the magic that had grabbed a part of Justine’s soul to pull that fragment out of her. Topaz controlled that power, and Topaz made Justine come with such intensity that sparkling rainbow lights flashed behind her closed eyes.

After that explosion of color, Justine rode a seemingly never-ending wave of pleasure before everything dissolved into a dark haze.

***

When Justine started pulling herself out of the dark haze she’d fallen into, she wasn’t in the temple anymore. She was in her bed, or thought she might be. Figuring out her location took time because traces of haze clung to Justine’s mind, disorienting her. She did, however, realize the soft surface and royal blue sheets were not part of the sofa from the temple and the pillow beneath her head was not a kneeling cushion.

Some moments to process, look around, and shed the rest of the haze allowed Justine no other conclusion than that she was back in her bed, though this conclusion didn’t quite make sense. Her last clear memory was of kneeling before Topaz in the temple. How had Justine ended up in her own bed? She was missing some steps, clearly. Justine wore teal pajama pants covered in little yellow stars and a matching tank top. That was _not_ what she last recalled wearing.

“Magic,” Justine muttered.

Goddesses could easily teleport mortals, and being a soul-giver was known to influence your memory. For a second, Justine wanted to discount what had happened as the kind of sex dream Rochelle would have used as evidence she desperately needed to get laid, but that would have been ridiculous. Justine knew what had occurred. She looked at her left wrist, where the butterfly marking should have been.

It was no longer there.

That meant Justine truly hadn’t been imagining things: the mark a soul-giver received disappeared after they had done their duty. Rochelle had seen Justine’s butterfly, so it wasn’t as if Justine had imagined its existence in the first place. Her encounter with Topaz had been real.

If that were true, why did Justine feel so off-balance and empty? She shook her head, trying to clear it of the notion that she should expect something more than what she’d gotten. When she searched herself, she could only conclude that she wanted to see Topaz again. Justine didn’t think Topaz would have any reason to call on her anymore, yet she wished Topaz would. That was the cause of Justine’s illogical sense of hollowness: she was already _pining_ after a goddess. Did it count as pining if she had only just started?

“I am such a grown-up that I deserve a cookie. A whole mountain of cookies.”

Justine rolled her eyes, shifting in her bed to try and get more comfortable. Even sarcastically telling herself she deserved cookies made her hungry, but she didn’t want to get up yet to make any. She then glanced at her nightstand, prepared to give it a dirty look for existing when she was still sleepy.

She didn’t give it a dirty look because she was too busy being confused by the object sitting upon it. There was a necklace in a rainbow velvet jewelry box, something Justine knew she didn’t own. The necklace was shaped just like the butterfly on her former marking, only much smaller and made of yellow-gold stone that matched Topaz’s eyes and her name. Next to that, Justine saw a white gift tag with gold lettering that read, “If you ever want to see me again, put this necklace on and say so.”

A huge smile broke out on Justine’s face at the sight, joy and hope filling her and pushing away the emptiness. Justine may have been surprised to be chosen, but she couldn’t have been happier that she had.

Being chosen was the best kind of surprise.


End file.
